Of lords and ladies, having brought the queen
To a prepared place in the choir, fell off

A distance from her; while her grace sat down
To rest awhile, some half an hour or so,
In a rich chair of state, opposing freely
The beauty of her person to the people..
Believe me, sir, she is the goodliest woman
That ever lay by man: which when the people 70
Had the full view of, such a noise arose
As the shrouds make at sea in a stiff tempest,
As loud, and to as many tunes: hats, cloaks,-
Doublets, I think,-flew up; and had their faces
Been loose, this day they had been lost. Such joy
I never saw before. Great-bellied women,
That had not half a week to go, like rams
In the old time of war, would shake the press,
And make 'em reel before 'em. No man living
Could say 'This is my wife 'there; all were woven
So strangely in one piece.
Sec. Gent.
But, what follow'd? 81
Third Gent. At length her grace rose, and
with modest paces

Came to the altar; where she kneel'd, and saintlike

Cast her fair eyes to heaven and pray'd devoutly.
Then rose again and bow'd her to the people:
When by the Archbishop of Canterbury
She had all the royal makings of a queen;
As holy oil, Edward Confessor's crown,
The rod, and bird of peace, and all such emblems
Laid nobly on her: which perform'd, the choir, 90
With all the choicest music of the kingdom,

Enter KATHARINE, Dowager, sick; led between GRIFFITH, her gentleman usher, and PATIENCE, her woman.

Grif. How does your grace?

Kath. O Griffith, sick to death! My legs, like loaden branches, bow to the earth, Willing to leave their burthen. Reach a chair: So; now, methinks, I feel a little ease. Didst thou not tell me, Griffith, as thou led'st me, That the great child of honour, Cardinal Wolsey, Was dead?

Grif. Yes, madam; but I think your grace, Out of the pain you suffer'd, gave no ear to 't. Kath. Prithee, good Griffith, tell me how he died:

If well, he stepp'd before me, happily
For my example.

ΙΟ

Grif. Well, the voice goes, madam: For after the stout Earl Northumberland Arrested him at York, and brought him forward, As a man sorely tainted, to his answer, He fell sick suddenly, and grew so ill He could not sit his mule. Kath.

Alas, poor man!

Grif. At last, with easy roads, he came to

Leicester,

Lodged in the abbey; where the reverend abbot, With all his covent, honourably received him; 19 To whom he gave these words, 'O, father abbot,

An old man, broken with the storms of state,
Is come to lay his weary bones among ye;
Give him a little earth for charity!'
So went to bed; where eagerly his sickness
Pursued him still: and, three nights after this,
About the hour of eight, which he himself
Foretold should be his last, full of repentance,
Continual meditations, tears, and sorrows,
He gave his honours to the world again,
His blessed part to heaven, and slept in peace.
Kath. So may he rest; his faults lie gently
on him!

29

Yet thus far, Griffith, give me leave to speak him,
And yet with charity. He was a man
Of an unbounded stomach, ever ranking
Himself with princes; one that, by suggestion,
Tied all the kingdom: simony was fair-play;
His own opinion was his law: i' the presence
He would say untruths; and be ever double
Both in his words and meaning: he was never,
But where he meant to ruin, pitiful:

His promises were, as he then was, mighty;
But his performance, as he is now, nothing:
Of his own body he was ill, and gave
The clergy ill example.

Grif.

Noble madam,

40

Men's evil manners live in brass; their virtues
We write in water. May it please your highness
To hear me speak his good now?
Kath.

Yes, good Griffith;

I were malicious else.
Grif.
This cardinal,
Though from an humble stock, undoubtedly

The vision. Enter, solemnly tripping one after another, six personages, clad in white robes, wearing on their heads garlands of bays, and golden vizards on their faces; branches of bays or palm in their hands. They first congee unto her, then dance; and, at certain changes, the first two hold a spare garland over her head; at which the other four make reverent curtsies; then the two that held the garland deliver the same to the other next two, who observe the same order in their changes, and holding the garland over her head: which done, they deliver the same garland to the last two, who likewise observe the same order: at which, as it were by inspiration, she makes in her sleep signs of rejoicing, and holdeth up her hands to heaven: and so in their dancing vanish, carrying the garland with them. The music continues. Kath. Spirits of peace, where are ye? are ye all gone,

And leave me here in wretchedness behind ye?
Grif. Madam, we are here.
Kath.

It is not you I call for:

Was fashion'd to much honour from his cradle.
He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one;
Exceeding wise, fair-spoken, and persuading:
Lofty and sour to them that loved him not;
But to those men that sought him sweet as

summer.

60

And though he were unsatisfied in getting,
Which was a sin, yet in bestowing, madam,
He was most princely: ever witness for him
Those twins of learning that he raised in you,
Ipswich and Oxford! one of which fell with him,
Unwilling to outlive the good that did it;
The other, though unfinish'd, yet so famous,
So excellent in art, and still so rising,
That Christendom shall ever speak his virtue.
His overthrow heap'd happiness upon him;
For then, and not till then, he felt himself,
And found the blessedness of being little:
And, to add greater honours to his age
Than man could give him, he died fearing God.
Kath. After my death I wish no other herald,
No other speaker of my living actions,
To keep mine honour from corruption,
But such an honest chronicler as Griffith.
Whom I most hated living, thou hast made me,
With thy religious truth and modesty,
Now in his ashes honour: peace be with him!
Patience, be near me still; and set me lower:
I have not long to trouble thee. Good Griffith,
Cause the musicians play me that sad note
I named my knell, whilst I sit meditating
On that celestial harmony I go to.

70

80

[Sad and solemn music. Grif. She is asleep good wench, let's sit down quiet,

For fear we wake her: softly, gentle Patience.

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. An't like your grace,Kath.

You are a saucy fellow: 100

Deserve we no more reverence?
Grif.
You are to blame,
Knowing she will not lose her wonted greatness,
To use so rude behaviour; go to, kneel.

Mess. I humbly do entreat your highness' pardon;

My haste made me unmannerly. There is staying
A gentleman, sent from the king, to see you.
Kath. Admit him entrance, Griffith: but this
fellow
Let me ne'er see again.

[Exeunt Griffith and Messenger.
Re-enter GRIFFITH, with CAPUCIUS.
If my sight fail not,
You should be lord ambassador from the emperor,
My royal nephew, and your name Capucius. 110
Cap. Madam, the same; your servant.
Kath.
O, my lord,
The times and titles now are alter'd strangely

name

Banish'd the kingdom! Patience, is that letter,
I caused you write, yet sent away?
Pat.

No, madam.
[Giving it to Katharine.
Kath. Sir, I most humbly pray you to deliver
This to my lord the king.

Cap.
Most willing, madam. 130
Kath. In which I have commended to his
goodness

The model of our chaste loves, his young daughter:
The dews of heaven fall thick in blessings on her!
Beseeching him to give her virtuous breeding,-
She is young, and of a noble modest nature,
I hope she will deserve well,-and a little

To love her for her mother's sake, that loved him, Heaven knows how dearly. My next poor petition

Is, that his noble grace would have some pity
Upon my wretched women, that so long
Have follow'd both my fortunes faithfully:
Of which there is not one, I dare avow,
And now I should not lie, but will deserve,
For virtue and true beauty of the soul,
For honesty and decent carriage,

140

A right good husband, let him be a noble:
And, sure, those men are happy that shall have

'em.
The last is, for my men; they are the poorest,
But poverty could never draw 'em from me; 149
That they may have their wages duly paid 'em,'
And something over to remember me by:

If heaven had pleased to have given me longer life

And able means, we had not parted thus.

Let me be used with honour: strew me over
With maiden flowers, that all the world may know
I was a chaste wife to my grave: embalm me, 170
Then lay me forth: although unqueen'd, yet like
A queen, and daughter to a king, inter me.
I can no more.

[Exeunt, leading Katharine.

ACT V.

SCENE I. London. A gallery in the palace.

Enter GARDINER, Bishop of Winchester, a Page with a torch before him, met by SIR THOMAS LOVELL.

Gar. It's one o'clock, boy, is't not?
Boy.

It hath struck.
Gar. These should be hours for necessities,
Not for delights; times to repair our nature
With comforting repose, and not for us
To waste these times. Good hour of night, Sir

Thomas!

Whither so late?

Lov.

Came you from the king, my lord? Gar. I did, Sir Thomas; and left him at primero

With the Duke of Suffolk.

Lov.

I must to him too, Before he go to bed. I'll take my leave. Gar. Not yet, Sir Thomas Lovell. What's the matter?

IO

It seems you are in haste: an if there be
No great offence belongs to 't, give your friend
Some touch of your late business: affairs, that
walk,

As they say spirits do, at midnight, have
In them a wilder nature than the business
That seeks dispatch by day.

Lov.

My lord, I love you;
And durst commend a secret to your ear
Much weightier than this work. The queen's in
labour,

They say, in great extremity; and fear'd
She'll with the labour end.

Gar.

The fruit she goes with 20 I pray for heartily, that it may find Good time, and live: but for the stock, Sir Thomas, I wish it grubb'd up now. Lov.

Methinks I could

She's a good creature, and, sweet lady, does Deserve our better wishes.

Gar.

But, sir, sir, Hear me, Sir Thomas: you're a gentleman Of mine own way; I know you wise, religious; And, let me tell you, it will ne'er be well, 'Twill not, Sir Thomas Lovell, take 't of me, 30 Till Cranmer, Cromwell, her two hands, and she, Sleep in their graves.

Lov.
Now, sir, you speak of two
The most remark'd i' the kingdom. As for Crom-
well,

Beside that of the jewel house, is made master
O' the rolls, and the king's secretary; further, sir,
Stands in the gap and trade of moe preferments,

Must bear the same proportion; and not ever 130
The justice and the truth o' the question carries
The due o' the verdict with it: at what ease
Might corrupt minds procure knaves as corrupt
To swear against you? such things have been
done.

You are potently opposed; and with a malice
Of as great size. Ween you of better luck,
I mean, in perjured witness, than your master,
Whose minister you are, whiles here he lived
Upon this naughty earth? Go to, go to;
You take a precipice for no leap of danger,
And woo your own destruction.

Cran.

Be of good cheer;

140

God and your majesty
Protect mine innocence, or I fall into
The trap is laid for me!
King
They shall no more prevail than we give way to.
Keep comfort to you; and this morning see
You do appear before them: if they shall
chance,

In charging you with matters, to commit
The best persuasions to the contrary
Fail not to use, and with what vehemency

you,

The occasion shall instruct you: if entreaties 150
Will render you no remedy, this ring
Deliver them, and your appeal to us

There make before them. Look, the good man weeps!

He's honest, on mine honour.

mother!

God's blest

Cran. [Aside] 'Tis Butts, The king's physician: as he pass'd along, How earnestly he cast his eyes upon me! Pray heaven, he sound not my disgrace! For

certain,

This is of purpose laid by some that hate meGod turn their hearts! I never sought their

malice

To quench mine honour: they would shame to make me

Wait else at door, a fellow-counsellor, 'Mong boys, grooms, and lackeys. But their pleasures

Must be fulfill'd, and I attend with patience.

Enter the KING and BUTTS at a window above. Butts. I'll show your grace the strangest sightKing. What's that, Butts? Butts. I think your highness saw this many a day.

King, Body o' me, where is it?

Butts.

20

There, my lord:

The high promotion of his grace of Canter

bury;

Who holds his state at door, 'mongst pursuivants, Pages, and footboys.

King.

Ha! 'tis he, indeed: Is this the honour they do one another? "Tis well there's one above 'em yet. I had thought

They had parted so much honesty among 'em,
At least, good manners, as not thus to suffer
A man of his place, and so near our favour,
To dance attendance on their lordships' plea-

sures,

30

And at the door too, like a post with packets.
By holy Mary, Butts, there's knavery:
Let 'em alone, and draw the curtain close:
We shall hear more anon.
[Exeunt.